


Two of a Kind

by germany



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Depression, Existential Crisis, Existentialism, Incomplete, M/M, Will Not Be Completed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 01:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/germany/pseuds/germany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England is stuck in the past. Prussia is lost in the present. For both of them, the future seems null.</p><blockquote>
  <p>The past is hard to forget. The past is what has made you who you are in the present, and soon the present will create your future along with it. You can’t escape something that dictates your life so wholly. There will continue to be people who tell you to forget about yesterday, don’t live in the past--it does you no good. However, if you were to forget yesterday, there would be no tomorrow. Others will tell you that you should learn from yesterday, so you can use it for tomorrow.</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Day Before the Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in a long time, so I hope that everything flows nicely. If you see any mistakes or you have any helpful criticism I wouldn't mind to hear it. 
> 
> Warnings for this chapter are: depression, existential crises and thoughts of suicide. (Although impossible in a sense, for them.)

It wasn’t a surprise that there was no light since there were no windows. Additionally he hadn’t bothered to turn on any source of light after he had woken up, not even rustling around to look for his cell phone since he found it aimless. He had no idea what time it was and merely deduced that his brother was not at home and that he had gone out for another night of dreaming. The latter was more or less confirmed by the thought-splitting throbbing that wreaked havoc in his skull.

The covers were strewn haphazardly across his body from a night of another dreamless, violent night and he stared up at the ceiling. The only thoughts that struck him were _my head hurts_ and _it’s dark_ which were both obvious from the start--but it successfully kept his mind from wondering for the next five minutes. When it did start to stray it began with _I wonder where my brother has gone_.

It must have been important. Important enough that he had not woken up his elder brother. In the end, it probably wasn’t that important. Who would care to wake him up in the first place? On rare occasions he left his house all he did was impose on his “friends”.

It had been over a week since he had left the house. It had been over a week since he had been sober for more than a minute. It had been over a week since his room had been tidy in the least.

He didn’t want to think about it. He needed a beer.

That didn’t even rouse his motivation. Not a muscle twitched as he stared upward and the thoughts continued to plague his mind. There was a boy his brother liked, that precious Mediterranean boy--South Italy. Perhaps he was with him, having fun. It was most likely no longer fun to be with him. All he did was drink and then crash.

_Why do I exist? I shouldn’t be here._

When motivation did come it was merely to look subtly to the right. It had been obvious from how pitch black his room was that the clock was unplugged; however, he still checked. How long had it been like that? He wouldn’t know, and neither would the clock. It was unplugged.

When he closed his eyes he could properly feel the grease that covered his hair, smell the stench of his own body odor, taste the grime on his tongue and feel it on his teeth. When was the last time he had washed? When was the last time he had ate?

_Did it really matter?_

No one actually cared what he looked like. No one actually cared what he smelt like. No one actually cared what his mouth tasted like.  Who would, when he lived in his younger brother’s basement?  No one even got close enough to see him, let alone enough to smell him or kiss him. It’s almost as if no one cared to, like he was useless. Useless and lonely.

_And being lonely sucked._

In the darkness he could admit something like that. There was not one muscle in his body that wanted him to admit it or would even allow him to say it aloud, but at the moment they were just as loose and useless as he was. Being lonely was the worst thing in the world, especially when you’ve been alive and experienced for such an extended period of time.

He had no one to wake up to or expect to see, no matter the time. Even his brother had left him, the one he had raised into the fine nation he was today.

When his eyes opened again, they were wet. There wasn’t a chance in the word that he was going to cry, though. Not yet, anyways. It hadn’t reached the point where he would cry. Why was he still in bed, anyways? It was time he stopped sulking!

_Why get up? No one wants to see you._

Throwing the blanket that barely covered off of him, he stood instantly and without a moment of hesitation. It was pitch black and he couldn’t see anything, but he knew his room like the back of his hand.

_You mean your brother’s basement._

There was a crack when he stretched his whole body, and a few more when he popped his knuckles. There was no reason to turn the light on, he should just head straight to the shower so he can wash up.

_Who are you cleaning yourself up for?_

There were towels in the bathroom so he could deal with his mess of a room later. When he was walking out of it he tripped over a few piles of junk and almost rolled around with an empty bottle of beer, and when he ran into the door it seemed like an achievement.

_What a mess. You actually let yourself go like this. You’re despicable._

Opening the door he stepped onto the first stair of a long staircase that lead to another doorway. There was no door and the light from the hall eliminated what could be a deathly tripping hazard. Regardless he ascended the steps holding the railing.

_You’ve become a coward._

Actually, he let go of the railing once he reached halfway up the stairs. Thankfully he didn’t fall, although there was little chance of that from the beginning. The sun shining into the upper level seemed to indicate the middle of the day. He wondered what day it was… Checking the calendar later would be important.

_You don’t have any plans, anyone to see._

Turning to the left he made his way to the restroom so he could finally shower. Once he turned the water on he realized he probably hadn’t pissed for a few hours, which explained the pressure below his stomach. He took care of that before stripping and getting in as quickly as he could--the warm water felt nice against his skin.

_This is pointless._

Maybe he should have brushed his teeth first. His mouth tasted absolutely disgusting. Opening it to the spray from his shower head, he gulped it down. Something to eat would probably come before brushing his teeth, now that he thought about it.

_Why should you eat? You’ll get the kitchen dirty. Just wither away already._

In the warmth of the shower he stretched as he had before, letting his muscles actually feel some comfort, before he began to wash for the first time in as long as he could remember. He could practically feel the layer of grease slipping off as he cleaned himself. The water had washed away most of the aches he had, yet only soap would work for getting rid of that rancid smell.

_What’s the point of this? You have no one to impress._

Once he was done he stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel, and wringed his hair out. Shaking the last few droplets out, he patted down his chest before wrapping it around his waist. If he was right about his brother being out, he could walk around like this. It was time to get himself some food.

_Why don’t you just stop trying? You’re embarrassing yourself._

After he had made his way to the kitchen he began to rummage around the fridge until he found something he felt like cooking. Sausage and eggs were something quick and easy. Plus, they tasted good, so why the hell not? Maybe he would make some toast, too. The need to make some for his brother nagged at him, but he imagined he wouldn’t be home until later.

_Good, he wouldn’t want to eat your cooking anyways._

Sitting down at the table by himself wasn’t too uncommon these days, but he wouldn’t say it was common either. Usually his brother was there for company. The guy has a life, though. He tried to avoid the thought of it as he ate his breakfast at seemingly noon.

_Isn’t that great? Your brother has finally moved on from you._

When he finished, he washed the dishes and put them away, brushed his teeth, and then decided it was time to clean his room. The hangover wasn’t as bad after he had taken a shower and ate, anyways. Making his way down the staircase, his hand didn’t reach for the railing.

_No one is going into your room, so why clean it?_

The first thing he does is turn on the light. The second is cringe. Instead of instantly cleaning, he starts to look for his phone--he remembered to figure out the date. When he does find it, it’s in pants he was probably wearing around two days ago.

_Stop trying to connect to the outside world already._

Unlocking it, he went to his  calendar and allowed a sigh of relief. The meeting was tomorrow, not today, and he hadn’t missed it and gotten left behind by his brother. After that he cleaned his room merrily, without expectation of his brother returning tonight. When everything was tidy, he slept early and with at least two beer bottles for the next day.

_Just never wake up, would you?_


	2. The Morning of the Meeting

The past is hard to forget. The past is what has made you who you are in the present, and soon the present will create your future along with it. You can’t escape something that dictates your life so wholly. There will continue to be people who tell you to forget about yesterday, don’t live in the past--it does you no good. However, if you were to forget yesterday, there would be no tomorrow. Others will tell you that you should learn from yesterday, so you can use it for tomorrow.

He, personally, doesn’t believe he’s learned anything from the days before today. With every mistake you make, you should at least be learning, right? No matter how strenuously he thought about it, the past just seemed to haunt him, there was no sign of teaching. Every single event that had transpired, all of the things he had done wrong, each thing he had actually done right that were now gone. The darkness that engulfed the night always brought the memories, they played on the back of his eyelids, on his ceiling, his wall, in the back of his head the things he had thought long gone continued to be projected.

No matter how sweet the memory had been, it was always bitter in his mouth. The taste of them made him feel sick and caused his stomach to twist and turn in disgust. While he tried to sleep, eyes closed tight enough that his head began to ache and his lids to twitch, the visions continued to play. Everything that he tried to forget day in and day out flashed as if it was a movie of his idiotic life. Blue skies with a clear sea, grey skies and vision blurred with rain, a room full of people he knew far too well by now.

 _It’s cold_ , he thought quietly as he pulled the maroon comforter over his head. _It’s hot_ , he thought angrily as he threw it completely off his body. A growl resonated through the room and his eyes snapped open, the images cut for only a moment before he saw the black ahead of him. As soon as his mind realized it was still idle enough to show him the reminiscent forced cinematic, it began once again.

Unable to continue watching this as he did every single time he laid in his bed, he shook his head and lifted himself from groggily from the mess of his bed to sit up. Blinking a few times he saw the images flicker, and he tried to focus on getting his vision adjusted to the darkness around him. To get a clear look, he used the familiarity of the room around him.

The paintings on the wall depicted images of clear skies and sparkling oceans, much like the sweeter of bitter memories he had. Pushing that from his thoughts he looked towards the corner, which was home to a coat hanger that held many of his older outfits. The hats atop adorned feathers of the appropriate sizes, and he grit his teeth at the remembrance of wearing them. To his right was a closet, which most of his normal present-day clothing could be found. It was however closed, so he focused on the bedside table to his left. Upon it was a digital clock, the bright green numbers the only light in his room at the moment. He didn’t dare turn on the lamp which sat beside it. Further to his left was the exit, a large mahogany door.

It was a bare room.

A flicker of the visions began to arise once more, but before they could set he threw his legs over the side of his bed. The contact of his feet against the chilling hardwood floor caused him to shiver, but he didn’t let himself pause. Quickly he stood and blearily wobbled towards the door. Since it was his own home he didn’t hesitate to throw the door open and escape the previously believed safety of his barely clothed room.

While he made his way from his room to the kitchen he cursed himself for having not checked the time on his digital clock, having merely looked over it with his blurred vision, since the rest of the clocks in his home did not have a light source. Every so often he placed a hand on the wall, not only to keep himself in line, but also to steady himself from his own overbearing exhaustion of another night without sleep.

“Finally,” he murmured as he came upon the kitchen, promptly switching the light on. With a small flinch he covered his eyes but still continued over to the sink. Turning it on he slid his hands under the spray. The freezing water came as just a shock, but he still leaned forward to splash what he had cupped in his hands onto his face, rubbing at his eyes diligently as the water dripped down and soaked the shirt he had been trying to sleep in.

Before he turned the faucet off he dried his hands and face with a towel that laid near-by, and once he had he stood a moment in the silence of his kitchen. The synthetic light was still bright and burned at his eyes, so he gave himself a moment of rest. It didn’t last long for another vision to arise. Opening his eyes he looked up at the clock above him. It was four in the morning--there was no reason for him to try and sleep now.

Standing straight, he turned to make his way back to his cell to prepare for the day ahead of him.


End file.
